


This Isn't So Bad

by Minion99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Supernatural AU: College Dean, Supernatural AU: Not Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minion99/pseuds/Minion99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is taking online classes at a local community college. He's not too happy to find out his exams are proctored via webcam but after awhile he thinks he might begin to like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

“Sammy,” Dean yelled from the cramped desk in the bedroom he shared with his brother, “I need some help!”

Sam poked his head in from the hall with an eyebrow raised.  Dean looked at the computer screen and mumbled something about stupid technology. 

“I have an online test to take tonight,” he sighed. “Like, I have to be on video camera and everything for it but I can’t figure out how this works...,” he looked at Sam with a combination of plea and frustration.

“Oh, okay well I will see what I can do,” he waves Dean away, “Scoot.”

  

A few minutes later, Sam was out the door throwing Dean a thumbs up as he nervously fidgeted at the computer. He hated taking tests--it was the worst part of deciding to go to the local community college. He didn’t mind the lessons so much but test time always made him nervous and it didn’t help that now, apparently, he had to be observed on video camera. The school called it “proctoring”. Dean called it invasive. 

He frowned a little as he looked at the screen.

 

>   **Connected. Thank you for choosing ProctorU! Your proctor will join you shortly.**

 

“Okay...,” he mumbled, glancing awkwardly at himself in the video reflection on the screen. He briefly considered that he should have changed clothes after leaving the shop. Oh, well. He guessed it didn’t matter.

 

> **Castiel N. has joined.**

  

Dean waited, unsure what he was supposed to do next. 

The video for the proctor flicked on and he found himself staring at a male, maybe a little older than himself, with dark hair and blue eyes he could see despite the guy not sitting all that close to the camera. He was wearing a tiny black headset and a bright blue polo shirt and appeared to be sitting in a small cubicle. 

“Hello Dean, can you hear me?,” he spoke.

Dean nods before clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah. Yes. I can hear you.”

“Great, I’m Castiel and I will be your proctor today. Do you have a photo ID with you?”

“Yep,” Dean held up his student ID to the webcam.

“Thank you. Now, may I see a 360 degree view of the room please, including your workspace?”

 

Dean felt himself flush a little. Shit. He would have cleaned up a bit if he’d known this was a requirement. He stood and turned the camera slowly about the room and then focused on his desk area.

He sat down again, getting comfortable before Castiel interrupted him, “Do you have a mirror nearby? I need to see your computer screen.”

“Oh! Uh...hang on,” Dean hopped up and ran to the bathroom across the hall to dig for a mirror. “Found one!”

Castiel huffs a small laugh when he rushes back, flops back into his chair and holds the mirror up to show the computer screen. 

“Thank you, Dean. Now, if you will, please click into the chat box and click ‘okay’ to give me control of your computer.”

“What?,” Dean blinked with a skeptical look. That didn’t sound safe.

The proctor smiled, “Is this your first test with us?” Dean nodded again, this time knowing Castiel could see him. 

“Ah, okay. Let me go over how all this works then,” Castiel scooted his chair closer, adjusted his microphone and stopped looking all over his computer screen to look at the camera directly.

“Proctoring means you have to have someone watch you so that it’s proven you didn’t cheat on a test. For us to do that online, we also need to make sure that you aren’t using any kind of mirroring programs so that you can show us one thing but be looking at something else on the computer. To do that, we typically take control of the computer just for a moment so that we can see the settings but if you’re not okay with that, I can walk you through where to go so I can still verify your computer is secure.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean managed. “It’s fine then...”

“Great, can you click okay in the chat box?,” Castiel smiled at him.

Dean clicked and watched as Castiel moved his mouse around checking various settings on the laptop. 

“Okay, Dean. I’m all done with that,” he smiled again, “you can navigate to the school website and login where you take your test. I just need to verify--is it Western Civilizations - Exam 1 you’re taking?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” 

Dean followed the links bookmarked on his web browser and logged in to Blackboard. He found the exam link on the left hand side and opened it. 

“Now, if you will click the test link I can put in the password.” Dean clicked, feeling nervous about the test itself as well as having to be watched while taking it. 

“This test is closed book, no notes. There are no bathroom breaks to be taken during the test so if you have to go now would be a good time. Do you have any questions?” Dean shook his head. 

“Great, can you type that you understand these rules in the chat box? Then you may begin your test. Once you’re finished just type in the chat box to let me know and I will walk you through the log out process. Good luck on your test!”

“Thanks,” Dean breathed out, acknowledging the rules.  Then he clicked ‘begin’.

 

  

Forty-two minutes later, Dean found himself typing into the chat box.

 

> **Dean:** _All done._

 

> **Castiel** : _Excellent. Go ahead and hit submit. Once you do that you may log out of the website and close the browser._

 

Dean does both of these things and his computer screen flicks back to the tab with the open webcam. Castiel has just finished typing and leans back stretching a bit. 

 

> **Castiel:** _Okay Dean, you’re all set. You can click the red X in the chat box to disconnect or you can wait for me to disconnect. Have a good evening!_

 

> **Dean:** _Thanks, you too._

 

Dean smiled and hurriedly clicked the red X.  

 

> **You’ve disconnected. Thank you for using ProctorU!**

 

 Dean breathed a sigh of relief. That was nerve wracking. He headed downstairs to tell Sam he was done with the laptop and to hand over the remote. 

“How’d your test go?”

“Fine, I guess," he shrugged, flopping onto the now vacant couch. 

“Was it weird taking a test on camera? Did you get a hot girl as your proctor?,” Sam nudged him with his elbow.

“Yes, it was weird and no, no hot girl. It was a guy," Dean tried not to smile.

“Was he hot?,” Sam snorted. Dean punched him in the arm. 

“Go to bed or something. I’m gonna catch up on The Walking Dead.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later Dean schedules his second online exam for a different class and this time he makes sure to schedule it a little later than before. He wanted to be better prepared or at least that’s what he told himself. 

A week after that Dean is finishing up work on a mid-80s Mustang when Jo claps him on the back roughly. 

“Wanna grab a burger, Winchester?,” the blonde asked, grabbing her things from her locker.

“Nah, thanks Jo. I got a test tonight so I have to get home.” Dean wipes his hands on the cleanest rag he can find before slamming the hood closed. 

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that, well good luck and I will see you on Monday!” 

She waves and heads to her car as he begins to back the Mustang off the lift and park it off to the side. Inside he punches out quickly and says goodnight to Bobby before slipping out the door. He’s going to still need to hurry if he wants to get dinner on the table and have time to shower before his test. 

 

Once at home, he walks through the door, the scent of garlic and onions wafting invitingly through the air. He calls to his brother while he kicks his shoes off by the door.  Heading to the kitchen he looks around to find their dad asleep on the couch and Sam at the stove, stirring something that smelled amazing. 

“You didn’t have to cook, Sammy. I was gonna do it,” he huffs as he begins to wash the grease off his hands.

“No shit, but we didn’t get finished with what we were doing in class today so I don’t have any homework. Besides, I felt like it,” Sam shrugged. Dean turned to dry his hands and was met with a wooden spoonful of what looked like tomatoes and rice in his face. 

“Taste this?,” Sam nudges the spoon in his direction, “It’s called Tuscan chicken--it’s got chicken, garlic, onions, peppers and tomatoes over rice. I saw it on Pinterest.”

“On what?,” Dean takes the spoon from his brother and savors it before letting out a satisfactory groan. 

“Pinterest, Dean. It’s like a website full of all kinds of stuff like crafts and recipes?,” Sam huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh man, that is _good_ , Sammy! Shit.” Dean makes to grab another spoonful from the pot before Sam swats him away. 

“Thanks,” Sam grins as he begins to dish it out onto plates.

“When did you grow a vagina, though?,” Dean chuckles to himself as he grabs forks and knives from the drawer. 

“Do not make me dump the entire salt shaker in your plate, Dean.”

They slide into their seats at the table and Dean jokingly moves the salt and pepper shakers as far away from Sam as he can get them. They eat mostly in silence chiming in now and then about their day or school assignments. Once they were finished, Dean began clearing the dishes from the table and making a plate for their dad to eat when he woke up.

“Dean, I’ll get the dishes. You go take your test.”

“Nah, Sam. I got time. You cooked,” Dean reaches for the dish soap. He hated not feeling like things were distributed evenly between the two of them.

“I know that, Dean but you don’t have to do it. I can do it. You have a test to take,” Sam smiled at him, gently shoving him away from the sink.

Dean grumbles a bit throwing his hands up in defeat, gives Sam's shoulder a squeeze and begins to head upstairs. He heads to the bathroom, turning the water on in the shower before shucking out of his grease-stained clothes and jumping under the spray.

 

As he steps out of the shower, he gets a glimpse of his watch by the sink and starts. 

“Shit,” he huffs. Quickly wrapping a towel around his waist and charging across the hall to log in for his test. He ruffles his hair as the program opens and he goes through the login process. 

 

> **Connected. Thank you for choosing ProctorU! Your proctor will join you shortly.**

 

Dean quickly straightens the desk area and makes sure his ID and the mirror are handy.   He heads to his dresser and quickly slips into a pair of sweatpants. He’s got to hurry otherwise some random proctor is about to see him shirtless. He cringes at the thought and digs through the drawer for a t-shirt.

 

> **Castiel N. has joined.**

  

Dean hears a small intake of breath and knows the proctor must have arrived. Damnit.

 

“Hello, Dean,” a familiar voice says. Dean swears there’s almost a hint of amusement in his voice. He turns around slowly, chest and hair still damp from the shower, his cheeks flushing slightly. 

 

“Uh, hey Cas,” he fights a tiny smile and bites his lip. Castiel gives him a smile and glances around behind him at his cubicle before lowering his voice.

“Do you need a minute?," he whispers.

“No! No, two seconds... just... let me...,” Dean continues to glance around for a clean shirt, “...just uh, let me just grab a shirt.” His face feels even redder as he turns away feeling Castiel’s stare following him. 

Dean gives up the hunt shrugging on a hoodie and zipping it most of the way up. He sits, clears his throat and ruffles his hair a bit.

“Okay, sorry about that. Lost track of time, I guess.”

“Not a problem,” Castiel can’t hide his grin this time, “I didn’t mind the view.”

Dean feels his eyes widen and his cheeks flush all over again. He huffs out a tiny, awkward laugh as Castiel begins the routine checks on his computer and asks to see his ID. 

 

 

About thirty minutes later, Dean has finished and let’s Castiel know.

 

> **Dean** : _All done._
> 
> **Castiel** : _Great. You can go ahead and click submit. Then log out of the_ _webpage._
> 
>  
> 
> **Dean:** _Done and done._
> 
>  
> 
> **Dean:** _Hey Cas..._
> 
>  
> 
> **Castiel:** _Yes, Dean?_
> 
>  
> 
> **Dean:** _Will I always have you as my proctor? Or do you guys change things up?_

 

There’s a pause where Dean is holding his breath in anticipation. He’s not sure why he asked in the first place but if this is going to be a regular thing then he at least wants to be prepared.

 

> **Castiel:** _Typically, we do change things up. However, we are short staffed right now and I’m picking up several shifts so the probability that I will continue to be your proctor is high._

 

Castiel worries for a moment that he overstepped his boundaries with his earlier comment. 

 

> **Castiel:** _Is that okay? Is there a problem?_

 

Dean bites his lip and smiles.

 

> **Dean:** _No. No problem. :) Just wondering._

 

Castiel exhales a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

 

> **Castiel:** _Okay, Dean. You’re all done so whenever you’re ready to disconnect. Maybe I will see you next time. Have a good night. :)_

 

Dean finds himself lingering over the red X to disconnect for several moments before he follows through. He’s not even worried about his grade as he lays down to sleep that night--instead, all he’s thinking about are big, blue eyes and that tiny quirk of a smile. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself wanting to be better prepared for his next exams and also noticing every set of blue eyes he encounters.

Castiel yawns and stretches as he scratches his ear where the headphone rests. It’s been a long day. He’s been sitting in this chair since 8am this morning, with this headphone making his ear itch, watching dumb college kids fumble their way through tests and now it’s almost 8pm. He’s so ready to call it a day. 

He flips his microphone back to his mouth area and clicks on the next name in the queue. 

 

 

> **Student** : Dean Winchester
> 
> **School** : Lawrence Community College
> 
> **Exam** : History of American Literature - Exam 1
> 
> **ID on file** : Y
> 
> **Alerts** : N
> 
> **Accept**?

Castiel clicks ‘yes’ with a smile. He remembers Dean’s green eyes from the last test he proctored with him and that’s what he expects to see when the video feed goes live. What he is not expecting to see is Dean’s naked torso in the distance. He doesn’t realize he made a noise. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Castiel watches Dean throughout the test which, for his job, is actually not that typical. The proctor is there to note any strange activity but for the most part they only glance at the video feed now and then. Castiel knows how awkward it must feel to take a test on camera and so he tries deliberately to not watch when the student is visibly nervous or struggling. Dean, however, he watches every second of his half hour session. Castiel mutes his microphone and sighs as he repositions himself to prop his head in one hand. 

By the time he’s finished studying Dean’s face and watching his hair dry it’s been almost half an hour. Shortly after that his message box pings with Dean’s message that he’s completed his test. Castiel sighs and begins to lead Dean through the logout process.

He’s caught off guard by Dean’s question about being ‘his’ proctor and he can’t help but bite his lip.

 

> **Castiel:** _Typically, we do change things up. However, we are short staffed right now and I’m picking up several shifts so the probability that I will continue to be your proctor is high._

Castiel worries for a moment that he overstepped his boundaries with his earlier comment. 

 

> **Castiel:** _Is that okay? Is there a problem?_

Dean bites his lip and smiles.

 

> **Dean:** _No. No problem. :) Just wondering._

Castiel exhales a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

 

> **Castiel:** _Okay, Dean. You’re all done so whenever you’re ready to disconnect. Maybe I will see you next time. Have a good night. :)_

 

Dean’s hesitation in closing their session does not go unnoticed.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s Saturday is nothing if not ordinary--for his family, anyway. The boys’ father is up first, at the crack of dawn, leaving a note for the boys by the coffee pot and heads out to meet Bobby for their monthly hunting trip. Dean is up at 7:30 on the nose thanks to his weekly work routine and spends his first half hour of the day having a cup of coffee while outlining what he needs to do for the day. 

When Sam wakes up an hour or so later they make bacon and eggs (a whole package of each because they’re growing boys) with Saturday morning cartoons on in the background. Sam reads news articles on his laptop while Dean makes a grocery list. By noon Sam has immersed himself in a book and Dean is grabbing his keys to head to the supermarket a few blocks away. 

Sam looks up from his space on the couch when he hears the jingle of keys, “Want any help?”

“Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in an hour or so,” Dean says slipping on his jacket. “Text me if you think of anything else we need.”

“Will do,” his brother nods tucking back into his book.

 

Dean always feels somewhat out of place in the grocery store on Saturday mornings since it’s usually filled with soccer moms and whiny kids but he’s gotten used to it. He’s even managed to score a few numbers from hot moms that seemed itching for a taste of young blood. 

About halfway down the cereal isle he spies a shock of messy dark hair in a blue pullover hoodie and feels his heart skip. If anyone ever asks about that he will deny it. Dean Winchester’s heart does not skip beats. Instead of ruminating on why it definitely did not just do that he wonders briefly what he made on his test last night and makes a mental note to check when his next test is coming up. 

He finishes up and checks out without a hassle except for the canned ravioli that were supposed to be two for one that he had to remind the cashier about. When she finally looked up from her scanning to apologize for the mistake he notices how blue her eyes are and automatically slips into Flirt Mode. He can feel the charming smile grace his face but something is a little off about her so instead of pursing it further he thanks her and takes his receipt before heading to the car. 

Dean loads the trunk and slips behind the wheel of what is technically his father’s Impala and shakes his head a bit. That was new. Whatever. He heads toward home where Sam helps him unpack the groceries. They make sandwiches and catch some college football. Dean starts the laundry late afternoon and Sam heads over to his girlfriend’s house. 

Their dad calls to check on them around five just as they’re sorting out what kind of pizza to order. He gives Dean the usual instructions to look out for his brother like Dean hasn’t done this a thousand times in his life already. 

“I will dad,” he sighs as he points to the menu on the counter, “I always do.”

Sam proceeds to order the pizza while Dean finishes talking to their dad. Once his brother is off the phone he hands over his cell phone and let’s Sam talk to their dad. He finds himself heading upstairs to grab his literature book before reclaiming his space on the couch to wait for the pizza.

 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice startles him a while later, “are you...studying?” Sam gives him a look of mock disbelief. 

“Shaddup,” he waves him away, “Some of us aren’t naturally as _gifted_ as you are, Sammy.”

“I’m just saying I’m impressed, Dean,” Sam smirked. “I mean, you just had a test yesterday and you’re already preparing for the next one!” 

Dean continued to stare at his book without actually reading. “This shit is hard, Sammy. I don’t get it, okay.”

“Hey, hey you’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” he flops down in the arm chair beside the couch, “I hate lit--American or English. Ugh.”

 

A few minutes after the pizza arrives and their plates are piled high, Sam pipes up again, “Hey maybe you should get a tutor.”

Dean glares at him while chewing and shakes his head. “No way. The tutors at the school are so much younger than me that it would be too weird.”

Sam makes his case that just because they’re younger doesn’t mean Dean can’t benefit from their services.

“Yeah, but Sammy, come on,” he rolls his eyes, “That is so embarrassing. Plus, I don’t think they have after hours tutoring as late as I get home.”

Sam shrugs and goes back to watching the tv while Dean eats and half-heartedly begins reading “As I Lay Dying”. 

 

 

A few weeks later, Dean schedules his second Western Civ. exam for a Thursday night instead of his usual Friday. He’d made plans to go with Sam to see the new Iron Man movie and pushes his schedule up a day to be sure he can go. He does not secretly hope that Castiel is working that night. Not at all.

He spends his week at the garage from 8am until about 6pm on a good day. Comes home and showers, makes dinner for Sam and his dad (if he’s not working) and then hits the books until about midnight or later. He’d study until his eyes got heavy and usually fall asleep with an open book somewhere in his bed. 

When Dean had logged to his school site on Tuesday to check his grades he had been disappointed to see he had earned a 70 on his first lit exam. Western Civilizations isn’t too terrible--it’s mostly memorizing dates which he’s surprisingly not that bad at. It’s the literature that’s driving him mad. He doesn’t understand how it can be so open to interpretation and there still be _wrong_ answers. He resolved to somehow do better at it even if it meant going to work tired, which was a bitch, but could deal. The next morning he had woken up with his face on top of his spiral notebook and a black pen squished between the two of them leaking all over his cheek. Oh yeah, he fucking hates literature. 

 

Thursday arrived with less ink stains, thankfully. Dean headed out to work and was stopped by Jo immediately upon punching in.

“What’s going on with you?,” she raised an eyebrow.

“Huh? Nothing?,” Dean put his timecard back in the slot by the machine and headed to the garage. 

“Yeah, right. I know that look,” Jo countered hurriedly punching in and following behind him, “Did you get laid? Who is it?”

“No and nobody,” he laughed, unlocking his toolbox and opening drawers to gather his basic supplies he kept in his back pockets.

“Uh huh. Oh god, it wasn’t that Bela bitch was it? The one that was making eyes at you last week for getting her car done so quickly?,” she cringed and shook off that thought.

“Fuck no! Do I look like I would ever date a girl that drives a Beamer?,” he looked at her seriously.

“I didn’t say _date_ , Winchester,” she looked at him disgusted, “And I sure hope not. I’d lose all manner of respect for you.” He chuckled as she walked away and he began lifting the Escalade he was about to do a brake replacement on.

 

“I’m leaving, Bobby,” he yelled around the corner toward the office where Bobby could usually be found.

“Good luck on your test, idjit,” he called back. Dean could hear the tiny grumpy smile in his voice.

 

 

 

> **Connected. Thank you for choosing ProctorU! Your proctor will join you shortly.**

 Dean sat in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair quickly, pushing it this way and that until he felt satisfied with it. 

 

>   **Charlie B. has joined.**

He felt his heart sink. He supposed Castiel hadn’t picked up a shift today or maybe he was busy proctoring someone else. Did he really think he would always get the same proctor? He admonished himself internally for even having considered it.

The video screen blinked to life and he was met with a cute face and bright red hair.

“Hi, Dean,” she smiled and nodded toward the camera, “Can you hear me?”

He nodded, “Yeah, loud and clear.”

“I’m Charlie and I will be your proctor today. Have you tested with us before?”

They went through the verification process and he logged in to his exam. He was glad it was Western Civ. tonight since he could get done with that a lot quicker than literature exams. 

 

* * *

 

Castiel is idly scrolling through his phone on his way back from a break when he passes by Charlie’s cubicle and glances up. Well, _hello_ Dean Winchester. He smiles and hurries by, resuming his seat and grabbing his headset.   

When he hears Charlie give the closing he mutes his microphone and rolls his chair back and over to her. 

“Was that Dean Winchester,” he whispers. It would definitely be a breach of protocol to remember student’s names and discuss them with coworkers.

“Indeed it was, Cas,” her eyes sparkle, “He sure is dreamy.”

“You’re gay,” he deadpans.

“I know. He’s still pretty, though,” she shrugs.

“Tell me about it,” Castiel claps a hand over his mouth as her face lights up, "Shit."

“Oh my word, does Castiel Novak _actually_ have a crush on someone?!,” she practically screeches.

“For the love of all things holy will you please keep your voice down,” Castiel whispers aggressively, “I could get in big trouble!”

She solemnly places her hands over her mouth before crossing her heart with one and holding up scouts honor with the other.

“Not a word, Bradbury or I will hide your iPad,” he glared. She made a zipping motion across her lips. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW: This is totally how I feel about my American Lit class right now. -__-


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean decides he may actually need a tutor for this class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Lots of school assignments due. *cough* This is exactly how I feel about my literature class right now. -___-
> 
> Also, I was going to make this an eventual smutty kind of thing but I'm just not feeling it. :(

Dean sat propped against the headboard of his twin bed, literature book cradled between his knees as he attempted to make sense of the assigned text. He read the next line and his mouth fell open in annoyed disbelief.

“What the actual fuck!” he shouted at no one in particular, except maybe Faulkner himself. “What the hell does that even mean?" 

Sam skids to a halt just inside the door way with a panicked expression on his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dean quipped, “I just don’t fucking understand any of this _literature_ shit.” 

Sam grimaced, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I don’t know what to tell you man--other than please get a tutor.” 

Dean growled and slammed his book shut closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before running a hand over his stubble. 

“It’ll have to wait. I’ve got a test on this junk tonight,” he shoved himself off the bed with an eye roll.”

“Oh, boy.” Sam made a hasty exit before things got volatile.

 

* * *

> **Castiel N. has joined.**

 

Dean felt himself breath a tiny sigh of...relief? He wasn’t sure exactly but he instantly felt more at ease as the video feed came to life.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel smiled.

“Heya, Cas.”

“How are you today, Dean? Ready for your exam?” 

Dean clicked through the routine protocols in the chat box off to the side while Castiel did the checks on his computer.

“Ugh, I’ve been better and no. I hate literature,” Dean grumbled, watching Castiel’s eyes flick back and forth across the screen. They looked up.

“That’s a strong word, Dean. What don’t you like about it?”

“Uh, have you _read_ Faulkner? I just don’t understand it. Like, at all,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair a little. 

Castiel gave him a tiny smile. “I have, actually.”

“Let me guess, you’re one of those read-for-pleasure-types,” Dean laughed.

“Among other things,” Castiel shrugged. “I like to read.”

Dean choked and attempted to cover with a fake cough. 

“I just really don’t get it,” he holds up his literature book and points angrily quoting the book, “... _my mother is a fish_?’ What the hell does that even mean?!”

 

Castiel huffed out a small laugh, “Well, I can’t tell you that seeing as how you’re about to take a test on it and I’m your proctor but if you need some help I could tutor you sometime. I did alright in literature...”

“Seriously?” Dean looked skeptical, “Isn’t that like a conflict of interest or something?”

Castiel shrugged, “It’s not like this is my dream job.”

Dean smiled. “So what is your dream job?”

“How about you take your test first, I’ll give you my number after you finish and we can talk about that when I’m not on the clock,” he grinned.

“Yeah... yeah, sounds good,” Dean found himself smiling too. 

 

 

> **Dean:** All done.
> 
> **Castiel:** Excellent. Don’t worry too much about this grade, Dean. It’s early in the semester and you can still do really well. 
> 
> **Dean:** :) Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate it.
> 
> **Castiel:** My number is 816-232-8288. You can text me when we’re done here and we can figure out a good time? :)

 

Dean’s heart was suddenly beating wildly in his chest. 

> **Dean:** Sure thing. Text you in a few...  

> **You’ve disconnected. Thank you for using ProctorU!**

 

Dean waited a few minutes after he logged out of the website before pulling his phone out and adding Castiel’s number to his contacts list. He took a deep breath before composing his message.

> _Hey Cas, it’s Dean. This a Kansas City number?_

He closed the laptop and headed downstairs in hopes of grabbing a piece of leftover pie that Sam’s girlfriend had made. Dean didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until his phone buzzed in his pants pocket a few moments later.

>   _Hello Dean. That it is. Where do you live?_

Dean smiled, forking a bite of pie into his mouth before he replied again.

> _I’m in Lawrence, so not too far away. What are the odds?_

They exchanged a few more messages including details about when they could potentially meet up. Cas had to work several evenings during the week so they agreed on Friday night around 7pm. They’d meet in Lawrence since Dean still had to work that day. 

 

* * *

Cas smiled down at his phone as he kicked back and forth under his desk. He felt a presence over his shoulder and didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“I know that look,” Charlie beamed.

“What look? There’s no look,” Castiel argued half-heartedly.

“Did you get his number?!” she shrieked before remembering their deal and lowered her voice to a whisper, “It’s Dean, right? You asked him out?”

Castiel made a face. “Well, I didn’t really ask him out...,” he looked at his feet, “I, um, offered to tutor him.” He looked up to meet his friends eyes.

“Oh... well, hey nothing like studying a little chemistry to make a little well, _chemistry_ ,” she elbowed him playfully and winked. “Just be yourself, Cas. There’s no way he couldn’t like you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean sighed and looked over the guts to the new Impala he’d been repairing. He still didn’t know how they had managed go from such awesome cars to, well, _this_. Nevertheless, his job was finished and that meant he could clock out and head home for his study session with Cas. If anyone asked if he was nervous he would surely deny it. 

He wipes his hands on his coveralls and begins gathering up tools and dirty towels to put away. Once his area was a respectable level of clean he locked his toolbox and headed inside to the ancient time clock. 

“Alright, Jo,” he punches his card and slips it into the slot by the machine, “I’m headin’ out.” 

“I’m heading to the roadhouse after this, you wanna go?” she asks, punching her own card. 

Dean shakes his head, “Wish I could, kid but I have a study date.” As soon as he sees her eyes widen he realizes his slip of the tongue. 

“Session. Study session,” he attempts to correct. She pounces before he can even finish. 

“Yeah right, Winchester!” she punches him in the arm, “Like I’d believe that.” She grabs her keys from the hook behind the desk and heads out the door shaking her head. While Dean is thankful she’s learn to let it go when he has a date he’s beginning to feel a little indignant about people assuming he never studies. 

 

He arrives home in under twenty, mumbles a hello to Sam and their dad as he rushes through the living room and goes straight to the shower. 

“What’s up with him?” John raises an eyebrow at Sam.

“Said something about a study thing for his lit class,” Sam shrugged.

“She must be pretty,” John chuckles.

 

 

About fifteen minutes later the doorbell rings. John and Sam exchange amused looks without moving an inch. 

“I’ll get it!” Dean shouts from the top of the stairs where is frantically ruffling his hair in a mirror. Sam chuckles. 

Dean scoots down the stairs and to the door quickly, pausing a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself before he opens the door. Dean’s smile is instantaneous as he swings the door open to a guy a little shorter than himself with familiar dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. He’s dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a faded navy hoodie. 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiles and adjusts the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hiya, Cas,” he opens the door and steps to the side to allow Cas to pass. 

At this point, both John and Sam turn to see what’s got Dean in such a flutter. Dean purposely does not turn to face them but instead guides Cas toward the stairs with a light touch on his elbow. 

 

“Was that...,” John didn’t finish.

“It was,” Sam nodded, smirking. 

“Huh. Think it’s a gay thing?” 

“Dad!” Sam scolds him and pauses. “But yeah... probably.”

“Oh,” John goes quiet and Sam feels his stomach clench, unsure of his father’s reaction. He fidgets with the remote in his lap.

“Hey, we got any of that pie left, Sammy?” 

Sam nods a yes and watches his dad head toward the kitchen. Well, that went well. Really.

 

 

“So, this is my room,” Dean shoves his hands in his pockets as Cas plops his bag on Dean’s bed, “I share with my brother.” Cas smiles and Dean feels his chest tighten. 

“At least you only have one,” he laughs, “I have four siblings.” Dean whistles and shakes his head a bit. 

“No, thank you. One is plenty for me.” He moves to sit but is unsure where he should sit--on the bed by Cas or in the desk chair not far away? He opts for the bed after Cas eyes him strangely. 

“Okay, so you mentioned before that you have discussion board questions?”

Dean nods, “Yeah, twice a week on what we’ve read. Those are the most difficult parts. The quizzes themselves are pretty straightforward.”

“Good, alright. Well, do you have a copy of the questions and we can go over them? I can help point out things your professor may be looking for based on the questions and show you how to find them in the passages yourself.”

Dean looks amazed. “You can do that? Really?” 

Cas laughs and moves to pull Dean’s literature book closer to him. “Yeah, I can try at least.”

 

Within the hour Dean finds himself with his back pressed against his headboard and Cas to his right only centimeters away. Their knees are touching where their legs are crossed. The literature book rests on their legs between the two of them where they can easily see it together. Their arms graze as Cas moves to point out something in a passage on Dean’s side of the textbook and Dean feels he may explode. His heart skips as he sucks in a tiny breath. Cas smiles faintly but doesn’t move his eyes from the paragraph he’s pointing at.

“Are you listening, Dean?” Cas waves his hand in front of Dean’s face. They’ve been at this for almost two hours now and little by little he can sense Dean’s attention slipping away. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Dean looks sheepish, “I’m sorry, Cas...”

“It’s alright, Dean. What are you thinking about?” Cas sits up straighter and closes the textbook between them.

Dean looks up about the time Cas turns his head to look at him and their eyes meet. Dean intends to say his brain has gone fuzzy with information but that isn’t what comes out.

“Your eyes are amazing.”

 

He freezes. Did that actually just come out of his mouth? Well, shit. 

“Thank you,” Cas’ lips quirk up at corners, “Yours are pretty astounding themselves.” 

Dean opens his mouth to speak or to smile, he’s not sure which but Cas cuts him off.

“You have something... right here,” Cas points to Dean’s hair line as Dean closes his eyes automatically. 

Cas doesn’t pluck anything out of his hair, however, instead he turns toward Dean and quickly leans in to press their lips together.

Dean startles, eyes flying open for a moment before he gives in and he’s kissing Cas back. His hand finds its way to the dark haired boys’ neck and in to his hair. Dean pulls him in closer, his lips parting at Cas’ insistent tongue. They pull apart slowly, eyes remaining closed, tracing their lips with their own tongues. 

“Dean, I--” Cas looks vaguely frightened that he may have made the wrong move. Dean cuts him off with a finger to his lips.

“It’s okay. I think I’ve wanted that since the first time I saw you,” he smiles brightly as Cas’ eyes shine. 

 

The literature book and discussion board questions find their way to the floor pretty quickly after that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phone number is real. I dare you to call it. :)


End file.
